


Thanks For Tuning In!

by Flannigan



Category: Fallout 4, Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Angst, Casimiro's cryptic advice hour, Courier 6 Casimiro, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minutemen General Finas, Radio Host Casimiro, SO FLUFFY, Sole Survivor Finas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 18:23:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13769907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flannigan/pseuds/Flannigan
Summary: Fallout New Vegas/4 AU. General Finas is working himself to the bone to bring safety to the Commonwealth. Casimiro makes sure he's taken care of.





	Thanks For Tuning In!

**Author's Note:**

> Fallout 3, New Vegas and 4 are very dear to me. I have a whole AU for Hinabn. It was my theme for Inktober 2017, and I wrote something for it
> 
> it-s-blue-ink.tumblr.com

“Five minutes, general?” Casimiro pulled Finas by the arm into his shack, closed the door behind them, and made his way to sit down on the softest of the two cots on the floor. He patted the space next to him. 

“What’s the matter?” Finas asked, sitting down next to him with a grunt, their shoulders touching. There were black hollows under his bloodshot eyes. 

“You didn’t sleep last night?” Casimiro pressed a glass jar of purified water into his hands. Finas unscrewed the lid and took a mouthful and offered it back. Casimiro declined with a wave of his hand.

“I did, a few hours,” Finas sighed, “I had to go over some things with Preston.” He finished the rest of it in a few gulps, put back the lid and set it down. 

“Keeping him up as well? You’ll be the downfall of the Minutemen if none of the high-ups can aim straight.” Casimiro laughed, hoped to make Finas laugh. But Finas sagged against him with a heavy, broken sigh, head on his shoulder.

“There came in more reports from all over. Malfunctions, kidnappings, infestations, interrupted supply lines… I don’t know how to prioritize, it…” Finas unclasped the pip-boy from his arm. He rubbed over the marks from chafing. “I’ve never been in charge of anything like this.”

“It’s a lot, everyone counting on you to fix the world.” Casimiro took his arm and inspected the red marks, made a mental note to find bandages, or a long sleeved glove. He gently pulled Finas down to rest his head in his lap and carded through his hair. Finas groaned softly and curled up, and took a long, deep breath. Once he’d exhaled his voice was low.

“If I’d known this when Preston asked me to be general…”

“You wouldn’t have said yes?" 

”… Probably.“ Finas held onto his leg just over his knee, fingers digging into his trousers. "What does that make me?" 

"You don’t have to look out for anyone else but yourself. You can stop." Casimiro met his confused glance. He’d let his voice go hard again. He traced the shell of his ear until Finas looked back away. Casimiro leaned his head back against the wall, watching the horizon through a hole in the other wall. Looked like a radiation storm was on the way. Somewhere closeby the bell of a free-range brahmin clanged. 

"Can I?” Finas murmured.

“You can’t fix the world. It’s already exploded, burnt and glowing.” He knew Finas wouldn’t make up his mind now, or even next month. It was one thing they had in common. Why was Finas wasting his time with the Minutemen when he should chase the Institute? It was too hard to think of what he’d lost. He’d rather do this, than a hopeless task. 

“Close your eyes, general. …Closed? Good. Picture you’re back in Sanctuary, OK?” He pulled in a breath through his nose, grabbed the scratched pip-boy and turned a few knobs, it was a different model than his old one, but similar enough. He coaxed the radio to crackle to life. His own radio station frequency was set already, which warmed his heart. It played the same music over and over when he wasn’t on air. He waited until the song ended and changed the frequency to the pure background static, the grain and droning reminiscent of a waterfall.

“And that was one of lovely Adelaide’s least favourite songs, I hope she enjoyed it,” he spoke with his best radio-voice, not too loud to stir Finas who’d grown heavy and still in his lap while the music played. “I’ve gotten my hands on some very classified documents from the Minutemen, and I thought we should go over them together.

"There are lots of reports of overwhelming safety in many of the settlements in the Commonwealth. Though on some there is a surplus on tatos, which leads to an awful diet, because tatos are gross. Competent cooks and cookbooks are needed ASAP.” He softly dragged his fingers through Finas’ hair, smiling as he saw Finas trying to hide his grin against his thigh.

“And this analysis says everything is all right. The Minutemen who were on the brink of total destruction is now the force making life livable. Don’t forget to show your gratitude to the general, who’s working himself half to death for your sake.” He kept most of the acid out of his voice. 

“I’m proud of him. … Being trusted to make the right decisions for everyone is not easy for one man. But he is not alone.” Casimiro paused and took a steadying breath, looking down at the pre-war man who’d deluded himself he could make the world pre-war again. Hair greasy and face dusty, clothes stained with blood and gore. Sooner or later the reality would sink in.

Back in New Vegas he wanted to make his own decisions alone, and he did. He had cause to not trust anyone. Literally decided who would live or die, according to what would benefit him. He hadn’t seen the people who’d be affected until it was too late. Finas only saw the people.

“And this final report says the general has a great ass, which I can personally confirm. If nothing else, thank the general for that.”

Finas snort-laughed softly. Casimiro continued to talk about less serious matters with a careful voice, lulling him to sleep. After a while Finas blindly reached out for the pip-boy with a sluggish hand and turned off the radio. Casimiro stopped speaking mid-sentence, covered his mouth to not laugh out loud. Adorable. 

Casimiro worked his way out from under him and Finas burrowed into the thin blanket on the cot. He watched him for a moment before he fetched spare blankets and two gas masks for when the storm reached them, and cuddled up close and warm together.


End file.
